Chapter 338: Claws of the Iron Tiger

The colosseum’s energy shifted as the Azure Dragon Sect’s victory faded into memory.

Damon settled back into his seat, his golden eyes fixed on the arena floor as workers rushed to clear the debris. The crowd’s chants for Ariel had died down, replaced by a new tension that crackled through the air like static before a storm.

Grand Marshal Vane stepped forward, his voice carrying across the packed stands.

“Match 2 of the Top 16: White Tiger Sect versus Thunder Fortress!”

A roar answered him from the opposite tunnel, deep and primal, the sound of beasts ready to hunt.

Damon’s Incubus Celestial Eyes activated without conscious thought, the world sharpening into crystal clarity. He watched the Thunder Fortress disciples march onto the stage first, four of them carrying heavy iron pillars that they planted into the stone floor at equal intervals.

The pillars hummed.

Then they released.

Arcs of lightning shot between the pillars, weaving together into a crackling web that covered the entire arena floor. The air grew thick with ozone. Sparks danced across the stone.

Ariel leaned forward beside Damon. “That’s a lot of lightning.”

“Thunder Fortress specializes in electrical formations,” Damon said, his gaze tracking the White Tiger fighters as they emerged from the opposite tunnel. “They use those pillars to control the battlefield.”

Mia’s voice came from his left. “Can you break them?”

Damon considered the question. The pillars were Earth Grade artifacts, reinforced with multiple arrays. A normal King Spirit Realm cultivator would struggle to crack one.

But he wasn’t normal.

“Probably,” he said.

The White Tiger Sect took their positions on the stage, seven beast-men clad in minimal armor that exposed their muscular arms and chests. Their skin was covered in ritual scars, each one marking a battle won. They moved with a predator’s grace, their eyes scanning the lightning field.

Their captain stepped forward.

Tora.

He was shorter than the others, but his presence made the air heavy. His hair was white, cropped short, and his eyes were the color of blood. He wore no shirt, only a leather harness across his chest and steel gauntlets that gleamed with beast-grade inscriptions.

Grand Marshal Vane raised his hand.

“Begin!”

The Thunder Fortress vanguard activated the pillars immediately.

Lightning surged across the stage, a cascading wave of electricity that would have paralyzed a normal cultivator. The White Tiger fighters roared and charged, their bodies absorbing the electrical current as they pushed through the web.

But the first two went down hard.

A concentrated beam of lightning struck the lead White Tiger fighter square in the chest, sending him crashing into the barrier. Another fighter stumbled as the electrical web constricted around his legs, burning through his skin.

Thunder Fortress pressed the advantage, their heavy-armored fighters advancing with iron maces that crackled with stored electricity.

Then Tora moved.

He blurred across the stage, his body shifting mid-step. His bones cracked and reshaped, his muscles swelling, his teeth lengthening into fangs. White fur erupted from his skin, covering his body in a coat of pure silver.

The beast transformation completed in less than a second.

Tora slammed into the lightning web, and the electricity that should have stopped him simply passed through his fur, grounding into the stone beneath his feet. He didn’t slow down.

He reached the first pillar and grabbed it.

The Thunder Fortress fighters’ eyes went wide.

Tora wrenched the pillar from the floor, tearing through the arrays that anchored it. The lightning web flickered and died as he raised the twenty-foot iron pillar over his head.

Then he brought it down.

The pillar crashed into the Thunder Fortress vanguard, shattering his chest plate and sending him flying into the barrier. The impact left a crater in the stone floor.

The crowd went silent.

Then they exploded.

Damon watched from the dugout, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Mio let out a low whistle.

“Okay, that’s impressive.”

Mia’s voice was flat. “He’s strong.”

“Beast-men are always strong,” Selene said from behind them. “But that level of transformation… he’s been cultivating his bloodline for decades.”

Damon didn’t respond. He was watching Tora, who was now facing the remaining Thunder Fortress fighters.

The Thunder Fortress captain rallied his men, and they formed a defensive line, their maces raised. Lightning still sparked from their armor, but without the pillars, their electrical advantage was gone.

They fought back.

A Thunder Fortress fighter slammed his mace into a White Tiger fighter’s knee, the impact shattering the joint. The White Tiger fighter roared and continued fighting, but his movements were slow, and a second strike put him down.

Another White Tiger fighter fell to a concentrated electrical blast that stopped his heart for three seconds before he could restart it.

The attrition was brutal.

But Tora was relentless.

He caught a Thunder Fortress fighter’s mace mid-swing, his claws digging into the metal. His muscles bulged as he twisted, ripping the weapon from the fighter’s hands. Then he struck.

His claws, coated in beast-grade energy, sliced through the fighter’s chest plate like paper. The metal parted, and blood sprayed across the stage.

The fighter fell.

Tora turned to the remaining three.

The Thunder Fortress captain raised his mace, lightning swirling around the head. He charged at Tora, his weapon trailing electricity.

Tora caught the mace with his bare hand.

The lightning discharged into his body, and he absorbed it, his fur bristling with static. He squeezed, and the mace crumpled in his grip.

Then he struck.

His claw caught the captain across the chest, shattering his armor and sending him crashing into the barrier. The captain slid to the floor, unconscious.

The remaining two Thunder Fortress fighters surrendered.

Grand Marshal Vane stepped forward.

“White Tiger Sect advances to the Quarterfinals! 7-4!”

The crowd roared.

Tora shifted back to human form, his body steaming. He turned toward the Azure Dragon dugout, his blood-red eyes meeting Damon’s golden ones.

He smiled.

It was a predator’s smile, full of anticipation and hunger.

Damon returned it with a cold, flat stare.

He could feel the weight of that gaze, the promise of a future battle. The White Tiger Sect was coming for them.

And they would be ready.

Damon turned to his women, his voice calm and steady.

“Get some rest. We fight again this afternoon.”

Ariel nodded, her hand finding his. “Against the White Tiger Sect.”

“Yes.”

Mio cracked her neck. “Good. I want a rematch with that cat bastard.”

Mia’s shadow flickered. “He’s fast. But not faster than darkness.”

Flare crossed her arms, her eyes burning. “Let him come.”

Seraphina said nothing, but her hand rested on the Tempest Azure Blade.

Damon looked at them all, his harem, his warriors, his family.

“We win this tournament. Together.”

The colosseum’s energy shifted again, the next match already forming on the projection array.

But Damon’s focus was locked on the afternoon.

On the White Tiger.

On the path to victory.

He would not be stopped.